


Home

by Resa_Saso



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14060256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Saso/pseuds/Resa_Saso





	Home

If it wasn't for their... well, Rose called it affectionately „thingy“, he wouldn't have noticed the man, sitting in the corner of the dark alley, a bottle in his hand and a slightly tumbling tune on his lips. He stank from alcohol and stared at the ground with dull eyes.  
  
The thingy striked out.  
  
With the friendliest smile the Doctor could manage while facing this smell, he kneeled down on eye level to the man.  
  
The thingy beeped.  
  
Alright, he really needed to install a less insistent feature.   
  
Yes, alien, two hearts, thank you thingy, I got it, he thought to himself while trying to find out if the man had actually noticed he was there.   
  
Thingy really didn't deserve a proper name, did it?  
  
„Hello,“ he finally uttered gleefully. „You look like you might need help.“  
  
The limp head rose a bit, just enough to see sharp, brown eyes flash towards him, then losing their interest almost instantly, wandering down to stare at the ground again.  
  
The Doctor clicked his tongue, thinking, but was quickly interrupted by the drunken man's efforts to lift the bottle in his hands.  
  
„Oh, no no no, I think you had quite enough, don't you?“ Determined, he tried to grab the bottle from the feeble hands, but with a swift movement, the man threw it out of his reach.  
  
It shattered not far away from him on a house wall. Splashes of burning alcohol hit his cheek.  
  
Sighing, the Doctor raised an eyebrow.  
  
„I`m serious, I want to help you, no need to attack me,“ he assured the stranger.  
  
Finally, he got a drunkly muttered answer: „Don't take my booze.“  
  
„You just smashed it,“ he remarked.  
  
„Better nobody has it than you.“  
  
With a little laugh, the Doctor got up and held out his hand. „Come on, I'll help you home,“ he promised.  
  
The man snorted.  
  
The thingy did a backflip.  
  
„Turn off that noise,“ the stranger grunted, slitting his eyes to a pained expression.  
  
„Sorry,“ the Doctor grinned, not meaning it. „I set it to go off when encountering alien life. I wouldn't have thought I'd ever hear the extra Time Lord alarms, but here we go.“  
  
Brown eyes flashed up once again, this time remaining on his face. Suddenly, the man seemed to sober up almost instantly, Well, yes, he would, wouldn't he?  
  
„Oh, very clever,“ he snorted, his nose wrinkled in disgust. „Now what? Want to lock me up? Experiment on me? Steal away my secrets? Tell me, it's nothing I haven't heard before, you know?“  
  
Only mildly tumbling, the man got up on his feet, towering in front of the Doctor – it looked quite ridiculous because he was so much smaller than him, but the Doctor appreciated the effort.  
  
Quite a bit of misplaced confidence, he noted down to an invisible list in his head.  
  
„Try your luck, if you have a death wish.“  
  
He cancelled „a bit“ from the list and added „a lot“ in its place.  
  
But he just smirked. „I meant what I said,“ he explained. „I can help you get home.“  
  
„Don't be ridiculous. There's no way home. The gates have closed.“  
  
„Ah well, gates. They have the tendency to be broken open, haven't they?“  
  
Not much humour, the Doctor added to his list, while the man pierced him with dark gazes.  
  
„Don't talk about things you don't understand.“  
  
„I don't,“ the Doctor promised, still smiling.  
  
They examined each other for a few seconds quietly, a silent battle of wills.  
  
The Time Lord seemed reluctant to lose, but gave in anyway and with a sting to his heart, the Doctor wondered what this said about this man's desperation.  
  
„How?“ he simply asked.  
  
„We're kind of specialized in this kind of things,“ he explained vaguely. „Just believe me you're in good hands. My friend is waiting just down the alley. We'll take you in, give you a... ehm...,“ he wrinkled his nose, „shower, and then we'll figure out a way back. Opening gates into locked dimensions? Piece of cake. Did it all before.“  
  
„How do you know of the Time Lords?“ he finally asked. „Of any of this? There aren't Time Lords in this universe.“ He stopped. „... Or anywhere, anymore.“  
  
„There's you,“ the Doctor smirked. „I didn't believe you could exist, but you do, alive and well, hidden away in another dimension. So hard to believe you're not the only one who survived in this way?“  
  
The man rolled his eyes. „I searched. I searched every place I could get to in this bloody shithole of a universe. And when I failed, I searched for a way back. And failed too.“  
  
„And decided to let it out on poor bottles of liquor,“ the Doctor retorted.  
  
„Pathetic, isn't it?“  
  
He shrugged. „Nah, I get it.“  
  
The man slitted his eyes to a murderous expression.  
  
„I'm not making fun of you,“ the Doctor laughed, while adding „Oh God, don't mock him“ to his list. „I do get it. I thought I was alone for a very long time. Actually, there's a part of me, the major part, you might say, which still is.“  
  
„What the hell are you even talking about?“  
  
With a laugh, the Doctor started walking, not even turning around. He knew the desperation of being the last Time Lord, he knew what it was like to have to cling to every dim ray of hope. This man right now would follow him to the end of the world.  
  
  
  
  
He didn't need to walk quite this far. Along with Rose, they made their way to the Torchwood headquarters. She threw quite some curious looks towards the slightly stinking man. That was until he threw a look back at her, fletched his teeth and barked like a wild dog. With confusion and surprise in her eyes, she turned back, gazing towards the Doctor.  
  
He shrugged.  
  
„He's a bit grumpy, actually.“  
  
„If she stares at me like an animal, I treat her like I'm an animal,“ he called.  
  
„Are they all like this?“ Rose chuckled when they reached their front door.  
  
The Time Lord snorted.  
  
„More like the exact opposite. Sophisticated, stuck up snobs, that's what they're like.“  
  
Rose threw a look towards the Doctor, who confirmed with a little shrug.  
  
Doesn't like his own race much, he wrote down silently. Well, not a crime, surely. He didn't either. Though his other half might be a bit over nostalgic at this point.  
  
Well, he wasn't his other self.  
  
„Who  _ are _ you?“ the man asked with unveiled suspicion in his voice. „How would you even know?“  
  
Observant, the Doctor added.  
  
Then decided to ask a question that might make his list quite unnecessary.  
  
„You first. What's your name? How did you end up here?“  
  
„You got it right the first time.“  
  
They had entered the fabric building now. They led him to a large table and let him sit down for a bit. Rose went into the kitchen and returned with a tray of fresh tea he wouldn't touch.  
  
„Got what right?“ the Doctor dug deeper.  
  
The man snarled.  
  
„I hid away. There was a war, my people against the Daleks. When it was clear the war was lost, I fled. The gates shut down behind me, which basically means my planet's lost. I'm on my own.“  
  
„Your name,“ the Doctor asked softly. He had added basic intelligence, survival instincts and ruthlessness to his list and was coming to a conclusion he shouldn't be coming to.  
He took a sip from his tea and frowned.  
  
The Time Lord had grabbed his wrist and was feeling for his pulse. Where his dirty fingers touched him, the Doctor felt his skin prickle.  
  
He frowned. „Human.“  
  
„Could've told you that myself,“ the Doctor smirked. „Now, what do we call you?“  
  
With a sigh, the Master reached for his tea cup, smelled at the dark liquid and then pushed it away again.  
  
Even before the Doctor had added „doesn't like Black Tea“ to his list, he knew what the man's answer would be.  
  
„I'm the Master.“  
  
„It's not poisoned, you know?“ Rose threw in, oblivious to what was going on inside of the Doctor, who was franctically looking for another list in his mind.  
  
Burned on Sarn, he thought. No, no, that wasn't the most recent. He had recovered from that.  
  
Fell into the Eye of Harmony. That wasn't it? He had sat in his TARDIS the rest of the day, trying to justify the pain he shouldn't have been feeling, trying to get rid of the ghost of his old friend, lover and enemy stuck in his ship.  
  
Seems like he had found a way out.  
  
He smiled.  
  
Well, he couldn't help it. It wasn't precisely his problem, was it? All the trouble the universe was going to get into with the Master back on his feet? - Not his trouble, not his universe. He had Rose, he had a home, had settled, was building a family, fighting alien threats from the ground.  
  
The Doctor however, the real Doctor, sad and lonely on the other side of those gates...  
  
Well, one may tolerate a world full of demons for the sake of a devil.  
  
He was positive that was how the phrase went.  
  
„Well, Master, today's your lucky day,“ he finally grinned, he couldn't help it. „Because I know someone who'll be absolutely shocked to see you again. Well. And a little bit thrilled. Those go usually hand in hand with each other, don't they? Now, about that shower I suggested!“  
  
The Master let himself be led to a large bathroom and nodded absent minded when the Doctor offered him a set of new clothes.  
  
As soon as he shut the door behind him, he could hear the stream of water. With a smile, he leant his back to the door for a second, just listening to the sound that somehow, in his wrecked heart, proved this man was truly and undeniably  _ alive _ .  
  
Rose threw him questioning glances as soon as he returned to the table. The Doctor grinned.  
  
„Well, someone's gonna be a bit speechless if we show up with this idiot.“  
  
„So you know him?“ she asked, a wide smile spreading on her face. „He's a friend of yours?“  
  
„Well, I guess, in a way, you could say that, yes...“ the Doctor replied, a hand sheepishly wandering through his hair.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him, making him laugh.  
  
„You know, at some point we need to do the awkward ex talk.“  
  
„Ah,“ the Doctor smiled. „Let's do that after we've sent him home. We really shouldn't polish his ego too much, it's already rather big.“  
  
Rose grinned knowingly for a second. „So he  _ is _ an Ex.“  
  
He winked at her. „More than that, actually. Let's say, there's a lonely idiot out there, who won't believe his luck.“ He scratched the back of his head. „... And then he'll be in hell of a trouble, but hey, he'll manage.“  
  
„Trouble is what you live for, anyway,“ she replied and he pecked a small kiss on her nose.  
  
„Well, that and you, lucky new me.“  
  
„Urgh,“ they heard from behind.  
  
The Master walked up, a towel around his shoulders and wearing slightly too big clothes. With a smirk, the Doctor took in the highly improved smell.  
  
„Suits you,“ he grinned, but his mocking only got him a cold glare and he remembered the point „Oh God, don't ever mock him“ from his torn list.  
  
Oh well, he really was a bit grumpy in this regeneration.  
  
„So, tell me how you two lovebirds intent to get me home?“  
  
„Easy,“ the Doctor replied quickly. „We'll travel back in time to a point where the dimensions are open, smuggle you through and tadaah. Rose has worked on it a lot back in the days, it won't make a difference if you slip through, too.“  
  
„It makes a difference and sounds extremely dangerous,“ the Master announced dryly.  
  
„Yep,“ the Doctor grinned. „So, should we start?“  
  
They stared at each other silently for a few seconds, then the Master's constantly dark expression seemed to lighten up a bit and he sighed.  
  
„Who are you? And stop evading the question.“  
  
Rose sipped her tea in amusement, while the Doctor ran a hair through his already ruffled hair.  
  
„Okay, fine, I'm the Doctor. Kind of. In a way. His metacrisis, to be precise. It's complicated. We lost a hand once. Swordfight.“  
  
The Master merely raised an eyebrow.  
  
„And here I thought swordfighting was our thing.“  
  
Snorting, the Doctor finally let his hand sink. „Well. You know how Sycorax are. Wanted to fight me for the sake of the Earth. And lost. It was actually a lot like fighting you, come to think of i....“  
  
„Yes, thanks, got it,“ the Master threw in, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that hadn't been there before. The shower might have cleared his old friend's head, but what he just told him did pure wonders for his mood.  
  
The Master practically glowed, a wide grin on his face.  
  
„So, Kind-Of-The-Doctor, what are we going to travel in time with?“  
  
He was only slightly embarassed when he raised his arm with the vortex manipulator he had built himself. The Master's face froze.  
  
„You've  _ got _ to be kidding me.“  
  
  
  
  
The Doctor was, in fact, not kidding. To be completely honest, what did he expect? The man had managed to grow another self out of his hand and a human. If anyone was going to send him on a very dangerous and delicate quest with a falling-apart time travel catastrophy, it would be him.  
  
And yet... He was only half listening while that weirdo was babbling, lost in thought. He was happy with that human girl. He was... talking about settling and building a family and defending the Earth from the ground. A part of the Master wanted to step in, tear them apart, cause a threat so deadly and horrible, it would get this Doctor off his arse and into space, into who he really was.  
  
But was he?  
  
The second he had felt his pulse and realized he was human, cold, desperate disappointment had settled, like it always had. All he wanted was to escape this universe in which everything was strange, unfamiliar and ugly. All he wanted was to go home. He couldn't make himself care for this deformed, wrong Doctor, settling into a boring life with a Earth Girl. He couldn't even make himself care for taking over a universe that felt this wrong.  
  
Never had the Master thought to be one who had a sense of home. Gallifrey hadn't been his home, not once. Roaming through the universe, never staying anywhere, never responsible, never having roots, that was his way of living and it had never bothered him.  
  
But sooner or later the Doctor would pop up, make silly jokes, spoil his plan and give him some lectures before sending him off again.  
  
He had had a goal, an focus, some kind of anchor.  
  
And the more time he had spent in this hell of a universe, he had realized it had been the Doctor.  
  
Two faces were staring at him expectantly.  
  
He bit his lip.  
  
„Ehm.“  
  
„You didn't listen, did you?“ the Doctor remarked dryly.  
  
Strange. He felt familiar and appalling at the same time. Like the shadow of someone he craved to be with, a constant reminder of what he didn't have, an empty shell.  
  
„Didn't need to,“ the Master replied, feeling a sudden calm settling in. He stretched out his hand.  
  
„Give me that... thing and the date and I'm on my way.“  
  
„Please don't blow up the time-space continuum?“  
  
„Not interested. Just want to go home.“  
  
„Fine. Though I'd really rather not have to build a new one. I put a lot of work into it.“ Nonetheless, the Doctor handed over the... oh really, he refused to dignify this thing with a name. Vortex manipulator? Maybe if it aimed to manipulate the Vortex by making it laugh so hard it just let you through.  
  
Good enough for him.  
  
„Maybe put more work into it next time,“ he muttered while putting it on.  
  
The Doctor rolled his eyes, but grinned. „Tell him merry Christmas from us when you find him, eh?“  
  
The Master commented that with merely a snort.  
  
  
  
  
Maybe he should have listened after all, he thought while running through the aisles of the old fabric building, chased by a legion of Daleks who had thrown this bloody Earth out of its angles. Quite literally.  
  
„Okay, okay, almost there,“ he thought while storming towards the portal, which felt more like a hole to him. God, that girl had really torn it open in the most brutal of ways, hadn't she? Typical humans and their raw need for violence.  
  
He could feel the vortex pull at him, calling him, dancing in his veins. The drums got louder the closer he got, but he couldn't afford to listen to them right now, with Daleks still close behind and the Doctor somewhere in front of him. He didn't even blink while running inside. If this human girl could make it through, so could he.  
  
  
  
  
Noise.  
  
There was noise everywhere, not just his head anymore, not just his mind, but everything was infected. Noise in his veines, noise in the wide spread nothingness that was surrounding him, noise that kept him prisoner, wrapped around him, dug its claws inside his mind, it came to stay, came to devour him whole.  
  
He couldn't see which way to go anymore, he couldn't even remember properly who and where he was. And then, like a lifeline, there were whispers amongst the noise, something else, something soothing. It souded familiar, sounded like the Doctor, was leading him home, was giving him something else to listen to. Another Time Lord mind. The mind of someone connected to him. He clang to it, and suddenly there were eyes again, sight again, veiled by tears of pain. Suddenly he smelled fresh grass, felt London's cold wetness on his skin, knew he had made it and remembered what  _ It _ was.   
  
He still felt the noise lurking in his mind, hiding, waiting, preying, like a threatening thought, supressed until he went to sleep.  
  
He would simply have to never sleep again, then.  
  
  
  
  
He hadn't meant to jump through time again, but naturally the thing around his wrist had to go off. He didn't expect anything better from something a human version of the Doctor had built himself. God, he knew exactly about how many things inside of his rusty old TARDIS the Doctor had fixed with nothing but chewing gum, thank you very much.  
  
He jumped at least three times until he got rid of the thing, threw it to the ground and smashed it with his feet. Three times. To make sure.  
  
He'd rather be stuck in dull London for the rest of his life then use it again.  
  
Freezing, he tightened the Doctor's large jacket and looked around.  
  
Yep, London, probably 20 th century, and the sky looked... normal. Well, that was a relief.  
  
Who would've thought he'd ever consider a perfectly safe Earth a good thing? Times truly changed, didn't they?  
  
So. How to find out if he had actually made it home?  
  
„ 'xcuse me,“ someone asked behind him. „I'm aware it's a weird question, people tell me that all the time, still, could you tell me what year it is? I think I got it wrong again...“  
  
The Master almost burst out into hysterical laughter.  
  
There he stood. His long coat was flowing in the wind, his hands were buried inside the pockets of a silly pinestriped smart suit and that grin on his face was almost ridiculous bright. Every idiot would notice it was fake... Wouldn't they?  
  
He looked down at the remains of the smashed vortex manipulator at his feet. He could hear the Doctor in his head, almost accusingly telling him it would always bring him where he needs to be.  
  
Well. Maybe he had been a little bit too harsh after all, but, oh, who cared, really.  
  
He was  _ home _ .  
  
The Doctor's grin had changed into a frown.  
  
„You're alright?“  
  
The Master couldn't help but grin. „Oh, I'm... I'm always alright.“  
  
„That's my line,“ the Doctor replied in confusion.  
  
„And has it ever been true?“  
  
Stunned silence was his answer.  
  
„Ehm,“ the Doctor finally spoke, once he had collected himself again. „About the year...“  
  
„Right, yes, sure, the year,“ the Master replied, still grinning. „No clue.“  
  
They stared at each other once more, the Doctor evidently confused, the Master grinning from ear to ear.  
  
„Okay,“ the Time Lord finally sighed. „I give up. What... is going on?“  
  
„I've met your metacrisis.“  
  
„Oh,“ the Doctor replied and his face darkened almost instantly. „Did he blow things up again?“  
  
The Master frowned. „I wish. He did say Merry Christmas, though.“  
  
The Doctor looked around, confusion on his face. „It's spring.“  
  
His only answer was a shrug.  
  
For a while, no one was saying anything. The Doctor was watching him intently, clearly trying to figure out what to make of the recent events. The Master just waited, a grin on his face and his arms behind his back, waited until his best friend and part-time enemy would figure out the right questions.  
  
„So... are you going to elaborate how you managed to enter this universe... And why?“  
  
„Well, your metacrisis helped in a highly idiotic and dangerous way, as expected, which included a time vortex manipulator and open doors with a lot of Daleks. As for the why... Well, I was trying to find you.“  
  
„Me?“ the Doctor repeated, still not over the shock of hearing the answer to his first question.

Well, home, the Master thought. And you would be the only one not to realize that's you.  
  
Softly, he said, „Yes you. The real you, not that shabby copy of you with human anatomy running around saving the planet with barbie.“  
  
The Doctor hold back a laugh.  
  
„O...kay. I'm sorry, I don't even know who you are, I...“  
  
„Well, I thought you'd never ask,“ he smirked. „I am the Master.“  
  
The silence following was almost tangible. The Master couldn't help but widen his grin with every second the Doctor stared at him mindlessly. After a while, he started to laugh loudly.  
  
Maybe there was something familiar in the sound. At least it seemed to wake the Doctor out of his trance.  
  
„The Master died,“ he said, so coldly he could've turned the Spring to Winter. „He died, in front of my eyes.“  
  
„I know, and what was the number of times that happened again? At least five, wasn't it? Remember me burning to death in front of you and then...“  
  
„Okay, but... The Eye of Harmony. And the war. Even if you survived...“  
  
„If I survived, by, let's say getting revived by the Time Lords to fight in that precious war of theirs, I would've found a way to continue surviving, wouldn't I? And how convenient would a parallele universe be in a war including all of yours?“  
  
The Doctor smiled. „I tend to believe you, if only because you just called a whole universe 'yours'.“  
  
„Good for you,“ the Master replied with a grin.  
  
„What did you call my metacrisis again?“  
  
„A shabby copy.“  
  
The Doctor nodded. „Does sound a bit like you.“  
  
„And surviving the Time War doesn't?“  
  
His face darkened. „I looked. I looked everywhere. All of them, every single one, every trace, everything. Lost. Gone. And now you appear, out of the blue, telling me you're my...“  
  
He stopped and the Master fought the very powerful urge to roll his eyes. „Your what?“  
  
„Well, basically the person I want to see the least.“ He cocked his head. „And most.“  
  
The Master hesitated, only for a second, then talked before he thought better of it.  
  
„I've looked too, you know? Ever since the passways closed behind me, I've been trying desperately to find a way back. I knew it meant the Time Lords were... I thought you're probably too, I...“ He took a deep breath. „I was so lost, Theta.“  
  
Theta had been a great hugger once, but the Doctor seemed to have lost that urge within his many lives. But this Doctor, he was faster than the Master could look, drew him into a tight hug and almost crushed him to his chest.  
  
The Master pressed his eyes closed in surprise, and knew, to preserve his image, he should probably get out of his grip. In a second. Maybe two. Oh, really, screw it, he had looked for this for decades, he wasn't going to give up on it this quickly. With a smile, he laid his arms around the Doctor's waist.  
  
(He was really tall this regeneration. Why was he always taller than him, was that some evil scheme of the universe to have a laugh at him?)  
  
„I could insult you some more, if you want,“ he offered in a quiet mumble into his chest. He could feel the Doctor laugh under his face, vibrant and alive, and it was honestly the best feeling he had ever known.  
  
„And how are you going to do that, with your mouth all occupied?“ the Doctor asked, laying a finger under his chin to lift up his face.  
  
Before the Master could say anything – let alone an insult – he felt soft lips on his.  
  
He smiled into the kiss.  
  
_ „Oh, I'll think of something, _ “ he promised telepathically.  _ „Idiot.“ _   
  
He wasn't sure, what was better. To feel the Doctor's wounded soul inside of his own, slowly healing in feeling its related soul so close again, or the way his own slowly mended.  
  
Maybe it was the same thing. It didn't matter anymore.  
  
He was home.

 


End file.
